How To Solve A Problem Like Marianne
by Bumberbatch
Summary: How the boys react to a 12 year old girl being dumped on them. There's something special about young Marianne; as Sherlock finds out.


_**Another story I brain farted out when I needed something to do. Again, I proofread as many times as I was willing and I hope there aren't many mistakes. This is a weird one, I'm going to leave this fic open because if you want another chapter I may write one but this can be read alone as fluff. And this is very fluffy. Feedback is appreciated and enjoy! **_

"What's your name sweetie?"

"Marianne."

"What a lovely name!" John was outwardly beaming at the small child that looked very lost within the living room of 221B. Sherlock scoffed at him and stared at the young girl who had not taken her eyes off Sherlock's tall figure despite John's efforts of distracting her.

"I don't see why we have to take her. Just because Lestrade can't do his job properly."

"Sherlock please, she's right here."

"You're scolding me for talking about her like she is not there when you yourself have just done the same thing." John looked sidewards at the man stood up and gave him a fond look of death. Marianne hadn't moved her gaze from Sherlock, seemingly enthralled by the majestic flow of his word and body.

"I think you'll find that even though you're talking about me as if I am not in the room, I can, weirdly enough, still hear you." Marianne batted her eyelashes innocently as John gaped at her. Sherlock raised his eyebrow at her and knelt down with a small sideward smile.

"Nice to meet you Marianne." Sherlock held his hand out to her. She took it with a small nod and they continued to stare at each other for a while. John blinked, completely awestruck that his partner could find someone so similar to him in the form of a 12 year old girl.

Lestrade had left Marianne in their care when a case went wrong caused the young girl to be the only survivor of an orphanage fire. She didn't even look shaken up by it. John couldn't decide whether to mistake this for bravery, naivety or just plain nonchalance. Despite Sherlock's reluctance, John forced him to comply. Good deeds were few and far between in London, John had always been one to readily help when a person was in need. Or child as the case may be.

Instead of watching the staring contest, John stood up and padded to the kitchen putting the kettle on for good measure.

"Anyone want a cup of tea?" He said vaguely to the direction behind him.

"Lovely, thank you." The sides of John's mouth twitched slightly. Such words from a young mouth was comical. It was like having a younger, female version of Sherlock in the room.

"Yes, thank you." Sherlock answered. He sounded preoccupied but John couldn't blame him; this little girl must be like a feast for Sherlock's starved mind.

The kettle boiled and he brought over two cups of milky tea to the young girl and the older man that obviously hadn't looked away from each other. John chuckled a little and put the two cups on the coffee table between them. He then wrapped his arms around the kneeling man and placed a small kiss on his temple. He could feel Sherlock relax for a second at the embrace, like his brain stopped working for a second to take a breath. John grinned, still happy that he could bring his partner to such a stand still like no-one else could.

For the first time since arriving, Marianne looked away from Sherlock and took a mug from the table. John had, without really thinking, made the tea just as Sherlock liked it rather than ask the girl how she liked it. He was about to make this fact known until Marianne took a sip of her tea and smiled in thanks to John. She either wasn't saying anything because it was more polite to suffer in silence or that was genuinely how she liked her tea. For some reason, John thought if this little girl didn't like something or opposed to something; she would say.

John smirked and sat back on the couch behind him, tugging at Sherlock's hand slightly as he did. Sherlock took the hint and followed him, gently leaning on his partner as he sat down next to him. They sat opposite the girl as Marianne continued to sip her tea and turn her gaze around 221B. She looked in concentration, tilting her head a little as she saw things that were evidently peculier. The moose antlers with headphones, the skull on the fireplace, she turned around slightly and saw the bullet holes in the walls. She didn't flinch, look scared or even ask questions; she simply observed.

"Lovely place don't you agree?" Sherlock inquired.

"Rather what you've done with it." She stated with a smile.

"Always had a knack for decorating."

"Evidently."

Even John couldn't deny their spark. They bounced off each other with a grace that was most adults don't possess. Sherlock had never gotten on with most really. Let alone children. But Marianne was making Sherlock smile more than he ever did with anyone other than John. And this was a different smile. John's smile was that of fondness; love. Marianne's smile was that of intrigued fascination; still with a slight fondness but John couldn't be sure. John almost went to ask if Sherlock was OK but it seemed criminal to ruin the moment.

"I presume you've lived here for a while then?" She asked.

"What makes you think that?" Sherlock said with a knowing smile.

"The dust on the bookshelf, the small imprints on the carpet that can only be there because people have been walking on it for a long time and the fact that you two feel very comfortable here. If you had recently moved here, you wouldn't have just fallen onto the couch in that way."  
John's eyes widened, Jesus Christ that girl was scarily like Sherlock. It would be funny if it wasn't so creepy.

"Very good. An acceptable answer could also have been the indents in the furniture, the way that appliances have been turned in a way that is convenient to mine and John's right handed nature and the slight fold on the mat in front of the door from the dampness of shoes coming from outside; indicating that people have crossed the entrance many times. Although, I didn't quite expect you to get those yet."

"Yet?" John's voice was quite alarming when he hadn't spoken in such a while.

"Yes, yet John. I have a feeling Marianne will pick up more as she is inhabited here." Sherlock didn't even look at John, he blustered a little; flustered at the decision that Sherlock had made without him.

"I fear you may get slightly irritated with me." She responded, like she hadn't noticed John's confusion.

"Why is that?"

"I'm left handed."


End file.
